Broken PlatesA Story by Quinn WA story of how a parents troubled relationship affected their child's. My mother shattered every plate in our house that day. The day my father left her for a twenty-three-year-old, dyed-blonde, valley girl. He didn't move out until three days later. A dreadful three days. I didn't leave my room or talk to anyone. I was too depressed. They screamed, disputed, even hit each other a few times. The day he left, I heard my mother weeping. I stepped into the kitchen in an attempt to comfort her, but she batted me away with her hand. She shouted at me and then ran out the door. I never saw her again. Five days later, I heard a rap at the door. I sprang up, hoping to see my mother, but instead cracked the door to a woman. She presented herself as Nancy. She was a Child Services agent. She had come to put me in her care. Luckily, I was seventeen and only had to stay six months. Then, I went to college. I studied for four years and made it into a journalism career. I wrote for many companies and was quite prosperous. Someone rang my doorbell while I was working on one of my biggest projects. When I unlocked the door, there stood a man. "My name is Charles. I just moved in next door. I thought I'd introduce myself," he said. "Nice to meet you. Daniella." I extended my hand and he took it. I invited him in and brought him a glass of water. There was something different about him. He seemed genuinely happy like there was no care in the world. I sat down and we talked for a little while about our occupations. Turned out, he was a journalist as well and was currently working with The Charlotte Gazette. We talked about many things that day. Such as our motivations, our relationship status, and adventures we'd been on. We had both traveled quite a bit. Too soon, he had to leave. I sat there for a while. I thought about stupid things, absurd things. I thought about getting married and having children. I had never thought about that until I met Charles. Something about him had flipped a switch in me. Maybe since my family life went awry, I could make another. I contemplated for a while about that. Then, dismissed it completely, thinking I don't have experience with it. In order to raise and have a perfect family, you must've grown up in one. Throughout that year, I got to know Charles more. I always relished speaking with him. It didn't matter what we talked about, it was always pleasurable. I noticed my compassion for him soon. I assume he did as well because he offered to take me out to supper a few times. I always told him I was occupied, I needed to work. He'd always say "Oh. Maybe some other time then?" I'd reply, smiling, "Yes, maybe some other time." I felt sorry every time I said it. I felt sorry for him and myself. I wanted to go out with him, date him. I felt deeply for him but I knew I would break him, just like my dad broke my mom, just like my mom broke those plates, just like my parents broke me. Eventually, he stopped asking. He stopped coming over to converse. I miss our talks, even in my old age I can remember every word he ever spoke to me. I don't regret saying no. I never have. Although, I did mourn never telling him why. He never wedded. He lived next to me all those years and we hadn't spoken since the last time he tried to go to dinner with me. I woke up one morning and saw an ambulance approaching his house. Two weeks later, I attended his burial. Only his friends and cousins went. He had no children, no grandchildren. On his casket rested a paper. It said, "Dear Dani" in cursive lettering. Inside was a letter. Dearest Dani, I never married because I have always felt such a strong attachment to you. I always knew you weren't working; I knew it was an excuse. I know you feel the same about me as I do about you. I saw it in your eyes. Others noticed it too. I always got questioned if we were a couple. I had to fight back the urge to say 'yes' every time. I craved you, so greatly. I tried so strenuously to find someone new, but I never did. My sympathies were always with you, no one else. I don't know why you evaded me, but I hope someday when we meet in Heaven, you will tell me. And I did.
© 2016 Quinn WReviews
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StatsAuthorQuinn WSCAboutI have always enjoyed reading. It has taught me many things others just can't explain to you. It has also fueled my love of writing. I love writing short stories, they're my creative outlet, Mom would.. more..Writing
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